Over Before She Loved Me novel · Chapter 1 of 24
Chapter 1: Already Divorced
Dustin tells Barrett he is divorced and flying to London on Friday; Barrett is furious for him, then the hospital calls: Joelle collapsed and asked them not to tell him.
"You're flying to London on Friday? And Joelle is just staying here?"
Barrett Coyle said it loud enough that the barista looked over.
The café on Penn Avenue was nearly empty at ten in the morning.
Dustin Rayburn stirred his coffee once and put the spoon down on the saucer.
"She isn't staying as my wife, Barrett."
"What does that mean?"
"We're divorced. The decree came through last Friday."
Barrett stared at him.
His easy smile was gone, and for the first time in twenty years Dustin couldn't tell what he was thinking.
"You divorced her. Without telling me."
"I'm telling you now."
"Three years, Dustin."
"It was always three years. That was the contract."
"Contract." Barrett pushed his cup away. "You paid for her mother's kidney. You gave her the townhouse. You took her to Maine every summer and never once raised your voice."
"I know what I did."
"And she signed? Just like that?"
Dustin looked at the window.
Joelle had signed in four minutes, at the kitchen island, standing up.
She hadn't read the second page.
She had said, "Okay," and then, "Take care of yourself," and handed him the pen back.
"She signed standing at the counter," he said. "She didn't ask for anything."
"She didn't ask for anything because she doesn't want anything from you." Barrett leaned over the table. "She lived in your house for three years and never so much as reached for your hand. What kind of woman does that?"
"The kind who was grateful and didn't want to say so."
"Grateful." Barrett shook his head. "You're the best man I know. If she couldn't love you, that's her loss."
Dustin didn't answer.
He had told himself the same thing for nine weeks.
It hadn't helped.
The night of their anniversary, Joelle had come to his side of the bed in the dark.
She had kissed him first.
It was the only time in three years she had touched him without being asked.
In the morning he had asked her to tell him it wasn't gratitude.
She had looked at him for a long moment.
"What else would it be?" she had said.
He had called the lawyer that afternoon.
"Look," he said now. "She never wanted this marriage. She wanted her mother alive, and I gave her that. I'm not going to keep her in a house she's counting the days in."
Barrett was quiet.
Then he reached over and squeezed his shoulder.
"Okay. I'm sorry. I just hate seeing you hurt."
"I'm fine."
"You're not, but I'll stop." Barrett sat back. "Who's looking after the house stuff? Her things, the keys, the utilities?"
"I thought I'd handle it."
"Don't. Go to London, start fresh. Let me look in on her."
"Barrett."
"I'll check she's got what she needs. Boxes, a truck, whatever. You never have to see her again."
It was kind.
It was exactly what a best friend would offer.
Dustin nodded slowly.
"I'd appreciate that."
"Done." Barrett smiled again. "Now eat something. You look terrible."
Dustin picked up his coffee.
It was the same café where he'd first told Barrett he'd found someone to marry.
He had said it like a business deal, and Barrett had laughed and called him a lunatic.
He hadn't told him then that he'd stopped being able to look at the girl in the billing office without his chest going tight.
He hadn't told anyone.
His phone buzzed on the table.
A Pittsburgh number he didn't know.
He almost let it go.
"Mr. Rayburn?" A woman's voice, tired and brisk. "This is Allegheny General Hospital, the emergency department. Are you the husband of Joelle Hartigan?"
His whole body went still.
"I was. We're divorced. What happened?"
"I'm sorry, sir. Our system still lists you as her emergency contact."
"What happened to her?"
"She collapsed at work about an hour ago. A coworker called the ambulance."
Barrett had stopped smiling.
Dustin was already standing, his chair scraping the floor.
"Is she conscious? Is she hurt?"
"She's awake," the woman said. "She's stable."
"Then why are you calling me?"
There was a short pause on the line.
"Because she asked us specifically not to call you, Mr. Rayburn."
Dustin held the phone against his ear.
Across the table, Barrett said quietly, "Don't go."
"What?"
"Think about it. She told them not to call you. She wants you out of her life." Barrett's voice was gentle. "Let her have that."
Dustin looked at him.
Then he looked at the coffee she hadn't touched that last morning, in the kitchen, the cup going cold beside the papers.
She hadn't touched it all week.
He had put it down to nerves.
"I'm on my way," he told the nurse, and left his own coffee on the table.
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